


In Your Eyes

by WordsmithMusings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Hermione Granger, Complete, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Inspired by Music, Lemons, Not Epilogue Compliant, Not Underage, One Shot, Post-Canon, Songfic, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 09:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19226125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsmithMusings/pseuds/WordsmithMusings
Summary: It's Hermione Granger's birthday and Draco Malfoy has a special gift for her. If only he can keep himself from getting lost in her eyes.**Rated M for LEMONS and language***Dramione one-shot**Inspired by the song, "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel.





	In Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> __  
>  **LEMONS AHEAD**   
>  _I woke up with this song in my head and sat down to type. The muses whisked me away and Merlin, was I surprised where this path led._   
>  _Inspired by the song, "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel. No copyright infringement intended. I do not own either the song nor Harry Potter. The characters belong to JKR and the plot and story belong to me._
> 
> _Hope you like it! xx the Wordsmith_

###  **In Your Eyes**

He hesitated outside her door. He wasn’t sure why he thought this was a good idea. It wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t. He had had entire conversations with himself, long and drawn out, about this subject, about how to handle it, present it; he had turned over every angle in his mind, every possibility. The only thing he could hope for was that she wouldn’t hit him again. Not that he hadn’t deserved it then. _'Or deserved much worse now'_ he thought to himself with a scoff. Really he should be locked up in the Thackery Ward for how often he had talked round and round himself on this very topic. He had to be crazy, really. There just wasn’t any other explanation. _'Fuck, what am I doing?'_ he thought again with a pause before shaking his head violently in an attempt to remove that grandiose bit of foolishness from his addled brain. Truthfully that outcome was as likely as him making out of this conversation with his nose unbroken. 

Sighing deeply, he pulled his shoulders back and lifted his aristocratic nose in the air, the picture of aloof, nonchalance, just the way he had been raised to be. His mask of indifference slid into place, his irritating countenance of confidence radiating off of him. The only thing that would give away his swirling emotions and trepidation, if one could even imagine him capable of having anything akin to feelings, could be found in his hands, in the hesitancy of his knock, and in the white showing in the knuckles on his other hand, where he clasped a package a tad too tightly. After a moment’s hesitation, he knocked again. 

Glancing at his watch, he was about to turn away with a huff, when the door swung open. Her face was always her biggest give away. _‘It was her eyes,’_ he decided quickly. To most people, her eyes were just brown — regular, ordinary, muddy. But to him, they were as expressive and complicated as she was. They were hickory as rich as the earth’s soil; her iris was a large stain of wood and ebony pigments. Its size gave it a sense of innocence and purity. Those deep pools of dark-cinnamon swirls captured the depth and heaviness of one thousand untold stories, which imprisoned the sweetness of rich chocolate and the bitterness of strong coffee. They consisted of raw emotion, and if you observe carefully, they will reveal to you the exact thought that crosses the marvels of her brilliant mind.

Nevertheless, her eyes possessed sorrow that placed a melancholic veil over the dancing liquid of her chocolate eyes, cloaking them in a dull matte. Draco had been there when that veil had formed, watching the stolen specks of sunlight in Hermione's eyes slowly die, choked out by pain and pure hatred cast upon her, giving her eyes, bloodshot and rimmed in red from the agony of her tears, into the abysmal depths of earth stolen of all its moisture, nutrients and life. The way they had pleaded with his across the room for help had left him with nightmares that he deserved. Her screams continually ringing through his mind, reminding him of the coward that he was. 

They stared at him now, flickering in color and depth the way a potion swirled and changed with the flick of your wrist; so many mysteries were hidden in the deep beds of those big, brown eyes. Secrets he longed to know and had no right to experience. The way they flashed in a mixture of anger and pity, wounded him gravely, the golden flecks of cinnamon replaced with brown so dark it was almost black. Her face mirrored her eyes, the smile upon her lips, disappearing as she pressed her lips together. 

She was far too polite to slam the door in his face, though he could tell that she wanted to. “Oh! Mal-Malfoy. Um. You surprised me. Was there something you wanted?”

He bites back every sarcastic reply that immediately sprung to his mind, and instead shoved the box he was holding towards her. “This is for you, Granger.”

“Me-me? But what is it?” he watched her eyes change again as they widened into saucers. _'So expressive,'_ he thought a second time. _'She would be pants at poker. No wonder she was such a lousy liar.'_

“It’s a gift, Granger. Obviously.”

“A gift? But who’s it from?” her brows knit together in confusion at his raised eyebrow. “From you? Malfoy you got me a present?”

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

That got her. “No. Not until tomorrow, I mean.” 

“It’s after midnight Granger. So, it’s today.”

She hummed in response, glancing from the package in his hand to his face and back again. He stood carefully under her scrutiny. Scrutiny he could handle. Anything that wasn’t pity from her eyes, he could deal with— even anger, which if he had to admit, he liked. Her passion was a flame that ignited her and made even the air around her buzz. Riling her up had been his favorite past time for many years for that very reason. He knew he would never be on the receiving end of her happy smile or infectious laugh, and he’d certainly never be the reason why her eyes lit up and filled you with warmth like a mug of hot chocolate on a cold winter’s night. So, he had stuck to provocation. Watching the fire catch and burn to life in her expressive eyes as her mind set to work on comebacks, insults, sarcasm, and wit that he had found not only refreshing but fun. Very few people could keep up with him, but she could. Well, no, she had probably excelled in it; be better at his own game than even he was. She had always been better than him in every way, a fact he had known long before he had seen her screaming in agony on the floor of his house. 

Giving an exasperated sigh, he began to pull his arm back, present still in hand. “I’m not trying to kill you, Granger. It’s just a gift.”

There was something in his tone that caught her attention. Reaching out to him, she snatched the gift back, holding it close to her body as she stepped back from her door, nodding her head inside her room. “Come on then. If it’s going to blow me up, then maybe I can take you out with me.”

His eyes had gone wide at her words. His ordinarily cold air slipping slightly, making her chuckle. A soft giggle really, muttering that it was nice to see him flustered for a change which brought a pink tinge to his cheeks that he would deny to his dying breath. 

“Unless you want me to open it in the hall?” Her words brought him back to his sense, and he stumbled into her room. She shut the door behind him with a soft click, and he focused on keeping his breath regular and even. Never in all of his imaginings had he considered this option into his plans. He cast a wandless ‘muffalito’ sure that if someone heard her scream at this time of night and heard his name that they would think he was torturing or killing her and would Avada him on the spot. _‘Perhaps, this was a very, very bad idea,’_ he thought to himself pretending to take in her room, which was the same as his, as she watched him from the door. 

In truth, he had no desire to be back at Hogwarts, but the Wizengamot had not given Draco Malfoy a choice; honestly, he would’ve accepted about anything for punishment to avoid Azkaban and so he had swallowed his feelings, shoving them down as he had for years, to do what was expected of him. It wasn’t hard, after all, he was pretty much an empty shell at this point anyway. What was one more year or two of suffering in the grand scheme of things? It was what he deserved and more, and everyone, absolutely everyone in the Wizarding World, including him, knew it. 

So here he was. After a summer alternating between house arrest and rebuilding Hogwarts, by hand and without his wand or magic, to repeat his 7th year. He was stuck in a newly formed dorm specifically for the 25 or so others that had all returned alongside him to accept Headmistress McGonagall’s offer to redo their final year. The new dorm was a result of the influx of students that were returning to school that year, and that every returning 8th year was technically an adult. 

McGonagall had given them a speech about unity, fewer rules and trusting them to behave in a way that would do Hogwarts proud. “The war is over, and it’s time to let bygones be bygones. The time for hate and segregation based on a house is gone. You will be an example of what life can be like going forward.” Her words had rung in his head, and when more than one person had approached him and the handful of Slytherins that had returned and proffered their hands in a truce, he had been shocked. Not everyone was happy with this new arrangement, especially as no one under 17 was allowed in their common room due to an age line at the door, but it had suited Draco and his fellow Slytherins just fine. The fewer people to interact with the better, he figured, and the less chance of being hexed in the halls as he walked from class to class. 

He was not looking forward to the year after Hogwarts which he was to spend in the muggle world, again sans his wand and magic, and the year after that that he would spend in service to the Ministry of Magic through an as yet disclosed occupation. But at the end of those three years, on his 21st birthday, he would be free and clear. He had already begun to plan what that freedom would mean and moreover where he would go. Because he knew with all certainty that he would not be staying in England; Draco would go anywhere he could go. The further the better in his mind. 

But for now, he was here. 

Actually, he was standing in Hermione Granger’s dorm room, behind a closed door, with a silencing charm up. _'What was the world coming to?'_ he thought to himself as his eyes flitted across her four-poster bed, decorated in Gryffindor Red and Gold, with the same desk, chair, bookcase and armoire he had in his room. He was sure that door led to her private bath, just as his did. She had the same large rug on the floor to help with the Scottish chill that never seemed to ease in the castle, no matter how many warming charms anyone cast. Unlike his room, though, her room felt warm and inviting. 

It smelled like her too, a combination that was fresh and floral. Like spring in his mother’s Gardens. Violets, lily of the valley, apple blossoms and rain. He felt his nostrils flare as he took a deep breath, silently cursing himself all the while for what it reminded him of and what it made him long for. 

Clearing her throat, she invited him to make himself comfortable. Gazing about, he finally sat down on the floor, his back pressed against her bed. After a moment’s hesitation, she sat beside him, her knee accidentally brushing his as she did so. “Sorry,” she muttered as she adjusted away slightly. “Gods, this is awkward, isn’t it?” she asked with a small giggle escaping her lips. The corners of his lips turned upward, and he quickly nodded, ducking his head, to hide the amusement in his eyes. 

“Can I ask you something?” He nodded without meeting her eyes, somehow knowing exactly what her question was going to be before she asked. And sure enough, “how did you know it was my birthday?” tumbled from her mouth and all Draco could do was shrug in response. 

“I pay attention,” he finally replied, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “It's hard to miss you Gryffindorks singing ridiculously off-key, and you always passed cake out to everyone. You always got something from your parents delivered by a weird owl.”

She smiled, realizing that he must’ve really been paying attention to know that. Her parents had, in fact, always used the Weasley's owl to send her a package every year on her birthday. It had been one of the things she had been dreading most about having her birthday in the castle again. Knowing there would be nothing from her parents, that it had been her decision and her fault. Wiping absently at the tear that had sprung to her eye, she asked if she should rip into it then.

“Whatever you like. Watching you open that can’t be any worse than watching Weasel eat,” he scoffed. He decided the laugh she gave him and the playful smack to his arm were worth any mention of Weasel he could muster in the future. Not that he acted that way, instead he gave her a smirk and playful glare as he rubbed his arm where she had hit him. 

Gingerly she removed the wrapping paper from the package, revealing a simple box inside. Draco watched her from the corner of his eye. Noting the breathless anticipation and the way her face had begun to flush. Removing the top, she sat it beside her. Peering inside, she smiled brightly and pulled out several smaller wrapped packages. The first one, she knew from size and shape was a book. 

“Am I that transparent?” she asked with a laugh and a shake of her head.

“Transparent? The Great Hermione Granger, bossy-know-it-all-swot and Brains of the Golden Trio. Never.”

The smile that alighted across her face was what he suspected heaven most look like. When she smiled, the corners of her beautiful eyes radiated happiness in soft twinkles, which reflected the light that turned her brown eyes into shimmering pools of coffee with flecks of copper. There was pure blissfulness in the copper flecks that danced in the centers. These were the moments when her eyes reflected all the buried kindness that resided in her. Her eyes filled with trusting goodness, the kind found in the faces of children as they listened to stories of Father Christmas and Babbity Rabbity. It was the kind of wholesome thing that made parents do crazy things to preserve the magic and traditions and protect the innocence of the child for as long as possible.

He didn’t have to look up from the spot he was staring at on the ceiling to know that she had unwrapped the paper. Her gasp and incoherent mumblings that he was sure surmounted to statements like “is this real” “are you kidding” and, “this is too much" giving it away.

Hearing his first name on her lips caused his head to snap back and his grey eyes to meet her radiant brown ones. “Draco, I can’t take this.”

This was an argument he had prepared to have with her. One he had known she would make. He found that in this very unusual circumstance, it restored a sense of balance to him and gave him back a bit of the control he had thought he would have. “It’s for you, Hermione. You can’t give it back.”

She ignored the flip in her stomach that came from him saying her first name. She had never heard him say it before. Had she ever even said his name before this conversation? She didn’t think she had, though Hermione wasn’t entirely sure why she thought it mattered at the moment. Pushing the thought aside, she gazed down at her hands where a first edition Hogwarts, a History sat carefully nestled in the paper that he had wrapped it in. Hermione ran her hand reverently down the cover, where the gold embossed words still shone despite the apparent age of the leather cover. She knew it must contain dozens of stasis charms to preserve and protect it to this degree after all these years. Even Hogwarts didn’t have the first edition copy. She had checked. 

“Why me?”

The words were said so softly that for a moment he thought he had imagined it rather than heard them. Glancing up, he found Hermione's eyes waiting for his, waiting for an answer, an explanation - anything that would make him, for all intents and purpose, her lifelong childhood bully, gift her one of the rarest books in their world. “It’s your favorite book,” he replied lamely.

“How do you know that?” she demanded her words and face bristling with anger.

“Please. Everyone KNOWS it’s your favorite book. Absolutely anyone who has gone to school with you at all during these last few years knows that. You were forever walking around with your nose buried in that book, and every year it was the latest updated edition.”

Hermione felt herself blush clear to her hairline and down her chest. She knew that what he was saying was true. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Hermione read it multiple times a year, or that she bought the newest copy that came out before the start of every single school year. Even before she had attended Hogwarts her first year, she had secured a copy of Hogwarts, a History and read it cover to cover more than a dozen times. But she had never been able to get her hands on anything even close to this old. She was torn on what to do. She was quite literally torn between shoving the book back into his hands and telling him to take it back and rewrapping it to keep it safe before she tucked it away in her desk to only be handled when wearing gloves and a mask so as not to damage the book any further.

She was deeply engrossed in the debate in her mind and missed the subtle flick of Draco’s wrist next to her until she felt the book heat suddenly in her hands. Gasping she looked down, only to see “Property of Hermione Granger” appear in gold foil in the bottom of the corner of the book. 

“Now you can’t give it back to me,” Draco informed her putting his wand away casually.

“Draco! What did you do! You could ruin the book!”

Beside her, Draco chuckled softly. “No, Granger. I just ensured that you would never be able to part with it because I know you don’t really want to.”

She smiled softly, “I really don’t.”

“Good.” He gave her a curt nod; the topic said and done.

“Thank you,” she finally said her voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to her, surprised to see genuine pleasure swimming in her chocolate eyes, and felt his breath catch. He heard his voice respond to her, though it sounded strange to him, likely because all he could hear was the sound of his heart pounding in his ears caused by the look in her eyes. He could drown in the depths of those pools and never regret a moment of it, he decided suddenly, when her lashes finally fluttered, disrupting their gaze. 

Hermione felt a blush spread across her cheeks. There was something in his gaze that made her stomach flip flop and her insides warm. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way about Draco sodding Malfoy. Royal prat and git extraordinaire. Feel anyway about him. But there had been something in his manner when she opened the door, and in the way she caught him looking at her now - the way she had sometimes found him looking at her throughout their school years together. She had always been able to dismiss it, but something about this moment felt different. Maybe it was that it was late and he was in her room, or that he had given her a birthday gift of perhaps the rarest most beautiful book she could ever have wished for in her life. She wasn’t sure.

Clearing her throat, she turned her attention back to the other wrapped packages. Carefully rewrapping the book and setting it back inside the box, she lifted out a bundle of purple sugar quills. She started to ask how Draco knew but figured that he would dismiss it just as he had the other things. She was a notorious quill chewer, and sugar quills did help. Purple was her favorite, but they were near impossible to find. She hadn’t even seen any in Hogsmeade or Diagon alley the last time she looked. Turning her head, she gave him a wide grin in thanks and felt her stomach flutter when he returned her smile with one of his own.

"I didn’t even know you knew how to do that," she commented absently returning the sugar quills to the box and pulling out another smaller package.

"Do what?” he asked, his eyes following her hands.

“Smile.”

Draco’s eyes flew up to meet Hermione’s, and he felt his lips tug upwards at the merriment he saw dancing in there. The flickers of gold moving like shooting stars on a clear night, and he realized that he was fighting to lock his mask back in place at her teasing. “I smile.”

“Not like that,” she replied sincerely, giving him a pointed look before her eyes drifted back down to the next package in her hands. Draco watched her idly, unable to keep the smile from his lips for a moment as he studied her precise movements. He heard her gasp as she unwrapped the quills in the next box. One a dark eagle owl feather and the other a very rare phoenix feather. He had both custom made for her, not that he would tell her that, but it gave him a sense of pleasure to know that no one would ever have those two quills. Each had been imbued with charms to only work for her unless she gave someone permission to use them, and enchanted to return to her bag if she dropped or lost them. They also wouldn’t be as easy to destroy as her standard quills were thanks to her constant chewing on the ends when she was thinking. He had noticed long ago that she had a bad habit of doing that or worrying her bottom lip to death. Even now her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, and it was taking every ounce of control he had not to brush his thumb across her lips to set it free.

Hermione turned to speak to him, but he held his hands up before she could even broach an argument with him. “Just try not to eat these clear through, yeah?”

She nodded, temporarily rendered speechless by his thoughtfulness. Biting her lip again, she admired the two quills in her hands. She had never seen a phoenix quill before and couldn’t help running the feather over her hand repeatedly. “These are too much Draco.”

He tried to ignore the way she kept saying his name and the way it made him feel like a worthy person. Which was something he wholly believed he was not - not after everything that had happened. He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt something brush his cheek, and turned his wide grey eyes in Hermione’s direction only to catch her carefully running the phoenix feather down his nose with a giggle. “That tickles,” he told her huskily pushing her hand back. 

She nodded, another giggle escaping her lips as she teased him with the feather again before rubbing it against her cheek. “It’s so soft,” she whispered. “And the color is amazing.”

Draco swallowed loudly, hoping that she didn’t notice the way his eyes followed the movement of the feather as she wound it across her face and down her neck. Squeezing his eyes tight, he turned his head. He had never wanted to be a feather, so fucking bad in his entire miserable life. She giggled again, and he was helpless against the sound. His eyes were opening to watch her run the feather once again across her cheek before sighing in delight. _'Jealous of a fucking feather,'_ he grumbled to himself. _'I’d have never given her anything if I knew she was going to make me watch her open and behave this way.'_

“Draco?”

Her voice pulled him out of his musings, but he didn’t dare lift his head off of where it had been resting on her bed behind him. Instead, he gave a soft grunt in response.

“Why are you being so nice to me? All of this, it’s so wonderful, but it’s too much. I don’t deserve this.”

Draco swallowed again. He had been sure she would ask this, but nothing he could think of would be a suitable answer. He couldn’t very well tell her it was cause he felt _things_ for her, or that she did deserve it just for being her. She deserved so much more than he could ever give her for all the ways that he had treated her, all the things she had endured since she entered the magical world, many because of him and his father and the blood nonsense that had been spoonfed to his circles for generations. 

“Draco?” she said again, her voice softer and yet closer. His nose flared as he felt her shift closer to him. He could feel her warmth on his side, the tickle of her hair along his arm. He idly wondered how hard it would be to kiss her right now. How close she must be if he could smell the jasmine in her hair and the subtle hints of vanilla and lavender and sunshine that had been part of his Amortentia potion all those years ago. 

“I’m awake Granger,” he answered at last, as he felt her softly push his shoulder with her own.

“Oh. Did you hear my question?” Hermione asked. He didn’t have to look at her to know she was worrying her lip again.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice as soft as hers.

“Why won’t you answer?”

“Because I can’t explain it to you.”

“Why? Afraid I’m too dumb to get it,” she sneered, her body tensing next to his.

“No,” he returned, surprising her with his reflexes as he grabbed her wrist to keep her from drawing too far away from him. “Because I don’t think you’ll believe me.”

Closing his eyes, he took a steadying breath before he slowly opened them as he felt her shift closer to him, her wrist twisting in his hand until he let go. Only to be captured by her hand. He felt his throat go dry as she intertwined her fingers with his. Draco had seen her hold hands with Scarhead and Weaselbee many times in the past. The amount of jealousy he had felt every time he had seen one of them slip their arms around her shoulders and her head rest on their shoulders or chest was in the hundreds by now he was sure. Here he was, in the one place he had never imagined, with her head on his shoulder, and her hand intertwined with his, and he couldn't be more shocked than any turn of events in his life than he was at the surrealness of this moment.

Draco took another breath and absently felt himself nuzzling his cheek against the top of her head. It was an intimate gesture he knew, but he was powerless to stop himself from doing it. He felt like she was burning down every wall and defense he had ever known or made with this simple gesture. The longer he sat beside her, the more he felt like his pride was stripped away. _'Fuck,'_ he thought to himself _'if we sit this much longer I’m liable to turn into a Hufflepuff.'_

All of his instincts told him to get up and run, but without his pride, without his walls, he felt his magic reaching out from the inside to her. Opening his eyes, he tilted his head and nudged her to look at him. Her eyes shone with light and heat. In her eyes, he saw the potential for so many beautiful things. He wondered if that was what it felt like to be whole, to be complete, to be the man that she thought he could be. Draco wanted to be that man, for her, if only for her, but he knew he couldn’t be. He would never be. He could never amount to more than a failure and disappointment. After all, the mark on his arm would condemn him for all of eternity. Still, as his eyes flicked from hers to her lips and back again, he wondered if it would be ok to be that man, the one she saw, if only for a moment. 

Hermione licked her lips absently, noting the heat that flared in the depths of Draco’s stormy grey eyes. The piercing color had noticeably deepened since she had moved closer to him, and her thumb idly rubbed back and forth on the back of his hand. Hermione couldn’t explain why she had felt the need to be closer to him, or the electricity that had run up her arm when he had grasped her wrist. Her mind was in overdrive as she thought of how warm his palm was and how well their hands fit together So much more naturally than her hand had ever fit into Ron’s. And there was that look in his eyes, Hermione could see desire and fear. _'But there was something else,'_ Hermione thought idly, as his eyes retraced her face. _'Hope'_ , she thought suddenly, as his eyes flicked down to her lips again. 

Tilting her head slightly, Hermione nuzzled her nose against his chin, before meeting his eyes again. She had moved her lips within centimeters of his, she could feel his breath against her lips, and was sure he could feel hers against his. She lifted her head a millimeter more and idly let her gaze slide from his lips to his eyes, hoping that he could see the permission there. 

A moment later, she felt her eyes flutter shut as his lips grazed hers. Draco felt a smile tug at his lips as he pulled his mouth back and she leaned forward chasing his lips. Turning ever slightly, he brushed her lips with his again. Once. Twice. Three times. On the third time, he heard a small whimper escape her lips, and thought he would lose all control with the sound. Pressing his lips firmly to hers, he closed his eyes and ignored every voice in his head that told him he was unworthy and that she hated him. Would hate him more when she got to her last gift, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything other than the feel of her lips on his. On the way, she was pressing against him, on the feel of her soft lips and warm skin. 

His other hand slid up her arm and into her hair, his fingers tangling in the riotous curls at the nape of her neck. Tightening his grip, he pulled gently to tilt her head, causing her to moan in pleasure. Draco took advantage of the movement and slid his tongue into her mouth. His tongue was plundering her mouth with abandon, desperately trying to commit her taste to his memory — the combination of chocolate and mint like sweet mana to his soul. Hermione surprised Draco with her enthusiasm. Her tongue was fighting his for dominance at every turn, seeking entrance to his mouth, tasting him as he tasted her. She kissed him hungrily, and he was struck for a moment by the wayward thought that perhaps she had wanted him as badly as Draco wanted her. His hand tightened again in her hair as he shifted her head, deepening the kiss further. Her hand clutched his shirt into a tight fist, drawing him closer, their other hands untangling as they reached for the other. Her hand was slipping into his hair as his hand cupped her cheek. 

Moments passed as their lips nipped, sucked and moved against the other before they finally pulled back for breath. Draco rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming in short bursts as his thumb stroked her cheek. Hermione whimpered at the loss of contact from his lips and leaned forward to brush her lips against his again before she too pulled back for breath. At some point, her hand had slipped beneath his shirt to the skin beneath, and she smiled at the feeling of his racing heart under her palm.

“And here I thought you didn’t have a heart,” she whispered teasingly; a sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as Draco’s lips pressed featherlight kisses on to her jaw and down her neck. 

“I don’t,” he replied, at last, his lips pressing kisses to the corners of her mouth, before once again seeking her lips with his own.

“Liar,” she breathed, as her tongue darted out to run against his bottom lip, causing the heartbeat under her palm to quicken. “I can feel it.”

“What else can you feel?” he replied, pulling her into his lap, where he knew she would instantly feel his erection. He had no idea what made him so bold, but as she moaned in pleasure as she felt his hardened length between her thighs, he couldn’t make himself regret it. When she instinctively ground herself against him, he couldn’t keep the moan from slipping from his lips that were now trailing along her neck to her collarbone. His hands slid under her shirt, seeking skin, and hers trailed up and down his chest as she continued to grind against him. 

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against the shell of her ear as his hands undid the bra strap that was in his way. 

“No,” she breathed, her hands tugging at the bottom of his shirt. Draco quickly pulled his hands back and helped her tug his shirt over his head. Reaching for the hem of her shirt, he was surprised when she was already slipping it over her head and shrugging out of the bra he had already undone. Pressing her naked torso to his, she moaned as his hands gripped her hips tightly and pulled her body flush with his. She continued to grind her lower body against his, the pressure from his hardened length, causing more friction against her core as she moved. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said again as his lips moved back to her neck, pausing only to nip and suck briefly at her pulse point fluttering there before continuing down to her collarbone and chest. 

“Uhnghm,” she replied breathlessly as his mouth made its way down to her breast. She leaned back slightly to give him access to her chest, groaning as his tongue darted out to tease the nipple on her left breast while his other hand palmed her right breast. Her back arched as she pushed her chest into his touch, begging for more, and groaning as his forefinger and thumb rolled her nipple and plucked it to it’s taught peak. “Please,” she implored, as his tongue once again flicked across her other nub. Draco smirked momentarily before lowering his lips to the darkened flesh of her areola. Happily sucking her taut nipple into his mouth. “Yes!” she exclaimed her hands weaving into his hair and pulling his mouth down tighter on to her tanned breast. 

He growled at how vocal she was. Her demands and praise were making him want to touch her more. Still, the voice in his head told him he needed to stop. She would hate him if they went too far. "Tell me to stop," he said again as his mouth moved to her breast.

"I want you to stop saying that," she groaned her hands still gripping his hair tightly making him hiss in pleasure, "I don't want you to regret," he said. 

"I won't," she breathed moaning again as he nipped at her nipple with his teeth. 

"You might," he countered his lips working their way to her neck. Sucking and nipping at the tender flesh there bringing the blood to the surface effectively marking her.

"I might regret not getting to come if you don't shut up," she growled against his mouth, eliciting a chuckle from Draco.

"How close are you?" he asked, lifting his hips to meet her as she continued to grind against him. 

"Close," she whimpered, tightening her arms around his neck as he continued to work the spot on her neck. 

"What do you need?" he asked, nipping her ear and causing her to shudder with the caress of his breath against her flesh. 

"More," she replied quickly pushing her body harder against his erection. 

"Fuck," he growled as she added pressure to his tip shifting her weight. 

"Draco, please."

"Tell me to stop." 

"Do you want to stop?"

"Gods no." 

"Then shut up and make me come."

"So bossy," he replied, flipping their bodies so he was in top and she was now under him in the rug.

"You like it," she replied her fingers clawing into his back as she arched under him. 

"I do," agreed Draco as his mouth and hands returned to her breasts giving each attention as his hips began to thrust at her core. She lifted her legs wrapping them tightly around his waist as she met him. She was desperate for more contact and wondered if he would be agreeable to removing their last piece of clothing when Draco pulled her hands back suddenly as she reached for his belt buckle.

“Hermione wait,” he said, effectively blocking her hands and pinning her wrists above her head. 

“So close,” she pleaded, shifting beneath him. 

Draco groaned, transferring both her wrists to one hand, he slid the other hand between them, maneuvering his hand down under the waistband of her yoga pants and past her knickers to her damp core. He bit back a moan upon discovering how wet she was as he ran his finger over her folds. "What do you need, Hermione?" 

“Touch me,” she whimpered against his lips.

“I am touching you,” he replied, teasing her mouth with his. His lips were continuing their assault upon her face and neck.

“Not what I meant, and you know it.” She hissed in response, her hips bucking into his as his fingertips ghosted across her apex again. 

Draco chuckled against her mouth, swallowing the mewl that escaped her lips as his hand continued to tease her. “Look at me Hermione,” he said, suddenly wanting to see the heat in her eyes. Her eyes flew open, and Draco felt his breath catch as he met her gaze. He wondered if it was possible to die from the flame of desire that he sees dancing in her vibrant eyes. Their chocolate depths set alight with her deep need for release. At that moment, Draco decided that even if she hated him forever after this, he would give her this moment, he would give them both this moment. He had the power to provide her with the release she was begging for, and if he never did a damn thing for her again, he would and could do this for her. 

Selfishly he continued to stare at her, burning the image of her face flush with passion, her lips parted in prayer as his name fell from her lips in the most exquisite of moans. Her body was hot and ready beneath his. If he had been a lesser man, he would’ve removed both of their last barriers and ravaged her, taking everything he wanted as much as she seemed to need it. But that voice spoke again, and he couldn’t cross the line he so desperately wanted. He couldn’t consume her and take everything, not when he knew what else was in the box. Not when he knew she would go back to hating him when this was over.

Pressing his lips firmly to hers, he greedily swallowed the loud moan of pleasure that escaped her throat as he slid his finger into her hot center. He allowed her tongue to dominate and gave her the pleasure she sought, allowing her to set the pace and tone as he slipped a second finger into her folds. Her tight heat clenched around his strong digits, and he had to focus his breath lest he loses all control of himself. Cupping his fingers slightly, he pushed against the spongy center that he knew would drive her made as his thumb pushed against her nub, mimicking the back and forth motion she had used when on his lap previously. He hissed in pleasure as he let her wrist go, and her hands immediately buried into his back. Her nails were breaking his skin and leaving half-moon indents along his back.

Bracing himself above her, with enough pressure that she could feel him, he dropped his head to her ear and began to whisper to her. Knowing her love of words, he used them against her. Telling her how beautiful she was, how sexy, how much he wanted her, how good she felt under his fingers, how hard it was for him not to plunge his dick into her and make her scream her name. The more he spoke, the tighter she became, and the more she fluttered around him. She babbled an incoherent stream of more, yes, please, Draco, don’t stop, and Draco felt as if he was a beggar discovering a banquet as he continued to feast on her moans and whimpers. 

“You’re a fucking angel, Mia,” he whispered, nipping at the shell of her ear. “So beautiful. So sexy. I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, Mia.”

“How long?” she whimpered, her brain barely catching up to what he was saying.

“Years, Mia. I’ve dreamt of making you come undone for years. I’ve wanted to taste you, to hear you. Dear sweet, beautiful girl. You’re such a good girl.” He whispered, alternating licking and nipping at her. When he said good girl, he felt her clench around his fingers. “Mmmmm you like being called a good girl, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she breathed, clutching his biceps, as she clenched around him again.

“Fuck, witch. I’m not going to be able to resist fucking you with my cock if you don’t stop doing that.”

“So don’t resist,” she replied, nipping at his neck.

Draco smirked as he placed a kiss behind her ear. “Not yet, love. Now be a good girl, Mia, and come on my fingers. I want to feel you come undone. Will you let me make you feel good, love?”

Hermione merely nodded, as he applied more pressure to her sensitive nub. A moment later she cried out as he slid a third finger into her channel, “So tight,” he moaned into her ear as he scissored his fingers. Hermione’s eyes rolled back into her head as she arched beneath him. Her body was feeling as if it was reaching its fever pitch. She was so close but couldn’t breach the wall she was nearing. It was so usual for her to get so close and then lose it, but this time felt different. She continued to listen to Draco’s words, allowing herself to believe all the things he was saying to her. The confessions he was making of wanting her, the compliments he was giving her, and the thrill she felt every time he called her Mia, Love or Good girl. When he removed and reinserted his fingers, she felt her body tighten and clench and build to a fever pitch. She felt his breath on the shell of her ear as he continued to praise her, and then he nibbled that sensitive spot at the juncture of her neck and collarbone. “Harder,” she breathed, and a moment later felt light and color explode behind her closed eyelids as he bit down on her shoulder and her whole body convulsed with the much-needed release. 

Draco watched her come undone and felt as if he was the luckiest man on the planet to watch a goddess in the height of her pleasure. He slipped a finger out and continued to work the other two inside her gently as her orgasm swept over her, prolonging her high. His lips gave her constant praise into her ear as his name escaped her lips in supplication. He could feel the waves of gratification rolling off her body as he slowly eased his onslaught. He smiled as she became boneless under him, and slowly, painfully, he removed his hand from her heat. Ignoring all the warnings, he brought his fingers to his mouth before reaching his tongue out to lick his fingers. He groaned at the taste of her, and when she blinked her eyes open to watch, he didn’t shrink away, instead letting her watch him as he delighted in her essence. When she whimpered, he took his fingers and traced her lips, and bit back a deep moan as she sucked a finger into her mouth, tasting her self and teasing him at the same time.

“Minx,” he told her as he felt himself growing harder. 

“Offer still stands,” she replied, reaching a hand down to palm him through his trousers. 

“I want to,” he groused, lowering his lips to hers. Delighting in tasting all of her as his tongue caressed hers. “You have no idea how badly I want you, love.”

“I think I can tell,” she countered with a girlish giggle as she continued stroking him. 

Pulling himself away slightly, Draco gazed down at her, “You aren’t going to tell me I’m beautiful again, are you?” she asked, suddenly cutting him off.

Draco gave her a lop-sided grin. “Ah, Granger, but you are beautiful. Inside and out. But your beauty is the least interesting thing about you.”

Hermione felt her heart stop at his words, and her face must have reflected her confusion because he gave a little chuckle and tenderly tucked a curl behind her ear. “Your beauty is astounding, love. The deep caramel of your skin that taunts my fingers with the desire to caress it and see if it's as soft as it looks. The rich mahogany of your hair, so wild and free that changes hue with each curl and in every light. The sweet chocolate of your eyes that draws me in and makes me want to melt. The little freckles along your nose, and the fullness of your lips, with that adorable cupid's bow that make me want to kiss you senseless. The curves of your body that you keep hidden that makes me hard and keep me up late at night.” Hermione giggled softly, her hand moving to caress his cheek at his words. “All of these things, Love, add up to make you one of the most exquisite creatures to ever grace these halls, but they are not what makes you truly beautiful.”

Draco’s hand moved to her exposed breast, causing a shiver to run down her spine as he gently laid his palm over her heart. “This is what makes you beautiful, Mia. I have never met anyone like you. You draw everyone to you like a moth to a flame, and while some of us are fools that burn in your flames, admittedly by our own stupidity, to others, you bring light and warmth. It’s an admirable trait, and it’s what sets you apart. Your sharp mind, your soft laugh, your kindness, your gentleness, your ruthlessness, and loyalty. Your tenacity. That’s what makes you beautiful sweet Mia.”

Hermione felt tears prick at her eyes at the sincerity on Draco’s face. She felt as if his words might crush her under their weight, they were so heavy, but the look on his face made them light. Turned them into a balm that soothed her soul — after years of torment and acid spewing from his tongue, to hear such praise, such poetry falling from his lips to her of all people. It left her breathless and speechless. Apart of her wondered if it was all a cruel prank, but if it was wouldn’t he have fully taken advantage of the situation and slept with her? He had been so adamant about pleasuring her and not taking anything for himself, and now.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she found herself asking.

“I don't know. Because it’s your birthday, I suppose. Perhaps it's because for years I’ve told you everything everyone else told me to, and now, I have the chance to tell you what I really feel. And when you look at me like that, with your eyes shining, and your skin glowing from the pleasure I gave you, and your hands on me, I can’t not tell you. It’s like your kisses are laced with Veritaserum and I couldn’t shut up even if I wanted to.”

She laughed as he finally paused and took a long breath after spilling out his reply in a big run on sentence. “Feel better?” she teased.

“A little,” he replied, shifting slightly, “except for you know this,” he added, pushing his erection against her hip.

“Hey, I offered to help you with that.”

“And believe me, I want to take you up on it. Badly.”

“So why don’t you? Is it- is it my blood?” she stammered.

“Merlin witch! I just tasted you, and have been swapping saliva with you for Salazar knows how long now. Do you think if I cared about your blood, I’d have done that? Let alone said any of those things to you?”

“Well, no,” she replied softly, “but you’re so adamant.”

Draco sighed, resting his forehead on hers for a moment. He once again allowed himself to be selfish and kiss her lips again. The kiss was slow and soft, comforting in a way that he had never known before, and for a moment, he allowed himself to pretend that she loved him the way that he loved her. Reluctantly he pulled himself away from her. Reaching over, he grabbed her shirt and slid it over her head as she sat up. Though her brain was whirling and her curiosity was demanding an answer, she waited patiently as he donned his shirt before crawling over to the box he had given her for her birthday. There was only one wrapped present left inside. Silently, he handed it to her. 

“If you still want me after you open this, I will give you everything I have, but if you never want to speak to me again, I will understand.”

Glancing down at the wrapped gift in her hand, Hermione felt her eyes well with tears. What could he possibly have to give her that would elicit those two very distinct reactions from her? And was opening it worth it? She was surprised when her heart and mind whispered the same answer to her. Lifting her chin, she met his eyes, his once cold grey eyes that could fill her veins with ice now seemed so soft and light and so, so conflicted. They reminded her of storm clouds swirling and intense, they threatened to sweep her off her feet, and she wasn’t sure if she was dry soil desperately in need of rain or if they would unleash a torrential downpour that would destroy her. 

She glimpsed the gift in her hand once more before she set it aside. “What are you-“ Draco’s words were silenced with her lips. She kissed him with everything she had. Every emotion she felt in her soul at that moment. Desire. Fear. Need. Hatred. Love. She clung to him and mewled when she felt his arms tighten around her waist and draw her body once again into his lap. 

“I choose you,” she said softly pulling away from his lips just a breadth not wanting to give him too much space.

“Granger, you can’t be serious.”

“First, I like it when you call me Granger, but I like Mia better,” Draco smirked at her, shaking his head slightly. “And second, I am serious.”

“But, why, Mia?” his smirk grew as she blushed at the intended use of the name she said she liked.

“A lot of reasons I’m sure, but mostly because right now it just feels right. You’ve given me some wonderful gifts tonight. I’ve truly never gotten anything so lovely or as wonderful, and I don’t want to ruin it. If you meant everything, you said about me-“

“I did.”

She ducked her head and took a deep breath, savoring the way his lips pressed against her forehead in a tender gesture of support before she steeled her resolved and returned her gaze to his. Nuzzling his nose with hers as she played absently with the hair at the nape of his neck, she spoke again, “Do you want to be with me?”

“What?”

“Do you want to be with me? Not just fuck me, but date me?”

“Yes.”

Hermione was surprised by how quickly he responded and smiled despite herself. “Are you sure? I’m a bossy know it all swot.”

Draco gave her a lopsided grin that made her stomach flutter. “Imma risk it.”

“You should smile more often,” she told him sincerely.

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned my smile tonight.”

“Because it’s sexy,” she replied quickly before clamping her mouth shut. 

Draco chuckled. “don’t stop now witch.”

“Prat,” countered smacking his chest. “You’re whole face transforms when you smile. It makes you look…”

“Nice?” he finished for her.

“Well, I was going to say handsome but yes nice. And approachable,” she added quickly. “It’s disarming and dare I say charming.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she smacked him again as she ducked her head. Draco’s hand came to her chin, and tilted it up, “Don’t do that,” he stated softly. “Don’t hide from me. Please, Mia. We’ve done that enough now I think, don’t you?” She lowered her lashes and nodded her head. Cupping her jaw, he ran his thumb against her cheek. “What do you want birthday girl?”

“You,” she breathed, leaning her face into his palm.

Draco felt his heart flutter. “I’m not a good guy, Mia. I don’t deserve you. I’m not worthy of this gift you want to give me.”

She shook her head, “I refuse to believe that Dray.”

“Love, not having sex with you is a self-preservation thing. Because once we go there, I’ll admit that I’m in love with you. I can’t taste your light and goodness and then go back to darkness. So don’t ask this of me if you’re just going to turn around and walk away. I’m not strong enough or selfless enough to be able to do it.”

Hermione paused and gazed into his wintery eyes, she wasn’t sure why she needed this, needed him but dammit she did, and after years of denying everything and everyone due to logic and reason Hermione just couldn’t do it anymore. They had survived a war, and she had learned from the likes of Tonks and Remus that life was too short and too precious for excuses not to be together. There would be people who thought Hermione was a fool, people that laughed and mocked and would be filled with fury and rage, but Hermione didn’t care. She would trust what her heart was telling her, for once, she would be selfish and take what she wanted consequences be damned, “Dray, if you really can’t do it for you, then do it for me. Choose me because I choose you. Because I think there’s something in you. Because I want you.”

Searching her eyes, Draco felt hope surge in his chest. She was too pure for him. Too good, and in her eyes was a warmth he wanted desperately to wrap himself in and never let go of her. Gazing into her eyes now, Draco felt he would never know cold again, and before he could stop himself, he nodded. “I’m yours, love.”

The smile that graced her face was nothing short of triumphant, and the kiss she placed on his lips set his soul on fire. This time when their hands began to wander and clothes discarded there was no hesitation at the last barrier, and when he entered her, he felt his soul shatter into a million pieces and knit itself back together with every stroke. She was like a drug, intoxicating and addicting, and he would never give her up. Staring into her eyes, Draco felt himself reborn from the depths of the fire burning there, and he swore he’d never go back to the man he was before that moment. He bit his lip and bent to worship her neck, her shoulders, anything he could to not let the words sitting on the tip of his tongue spill out.

Hermione came undone around him, and as he filled her slowly and reverently, she knew she’d never want for anything more than this moment. She didn’t care what was in that last present, the love he poured into her, in every possible way that night, was gift enough for her. The look in his eyes told Hermione all she needed to know as they shifted from storm clouds to ash floating away on a breeze to the softest gray of a dove’s feather. He had asked her for forgiveness long ago, and tonight she had looked into his eyes and seen a man she had always wanted to know. He fit her perfectly; past be damned. She was willing to let the rain come to water her parched soul, and she would trust in him not to sweep her away or drown her. 

Later as they lay together in her bed, he wrapped his arms around her, and as he drifted to sleep, she heard him whisper “In your eyes, I am complete.” A broad smile tugged at her face as she heard the old muggle song her parents used to dance to in their kitchen. Nuzzling into his chest, she found herself humming softly to herself, visions of a simpler time and a contentedness she hadn’t known in years engulfing her as she too drifted to sleep. 

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> _Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos mean the world to me._


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